assortment of such paragraphs as these, with long bills of benefits
all ending with 'Come Early', in large capitals, formed the principal
contents of Miss Snevellicci's scrapbook.

Nicholas had read a great many of these scraps, and was absorbed in a
circumstantial and melancholy account of the train of events which had
led to Miss Snevellicci's spraining her ankle by slipping on a piece of
orange-peel flung by a monster in human form, (so the paper said,) upon
the stage at Winchester,--when that young lady herself, attired in the
coal-scuttle bonnet and walking-dress complete, tripped into the room,
with a thousand apologies for having detained him so long after the
appointed time.

'But really,' said Miss Snevellicci, 'my darling Led, who lives with me
here, was taken so very ill in the night that I thought she would have
expired in my arms.'

'Such a fate is almost to be envied,' returned Nicholas, 'but I am very
sorry to hear it nevertheless.'

'What a creature you are to flatter!' said Miss Snevellicci, buttoning
her glove in much confusion.

'If it be flattery to admire your charms and accomplishments,' rejoined
Nicholas, laying his hand upon the scrapbook, 'you have better specimens
of it here.'

'Oh you cruel creature, to read such things as those! I'm almost
ashamed to look you in the face afterwards, positively I am,' said Miss
Snevellicci, seizing the book and putting it away in a closet. 'How